STOP!!!
You are not allowed to continue reading until you vote for my poll below. 🤓
So. Who's team are you guys?
Team Louis?
Team Harry?
Make sure to comment on which team you are on for this story/the breakup. It would also be cool if you say why. I'm team both because I'm the writer so I have to be. 🙃
You may continue with your reading now.
Minutes pass. Almost feels like hours with the way Louis is pacing back and forth in Harry's dressing room. The concert is still rolling, the last song now being played, and Harry's voice ringing through the arena. Louis can hear it so clearly, so loud, the only thing running in between his ears. It doesn't help calm him at all, only furthers the inner turmoil that is going on inside him.
The thing about the new song is that Harry wrote it. Within a week of being home. He wrote it and used Louis' recording studio to complete it. This wasn't a song that had taken months of preparing for. The truth behind the song is that he came home, he spent time with family and friends, and he saw his ex-boyfriend again. After three years, and this is the product of everything. It's about him - about his relationship with Louis.
How the hell is he supposed to recover after that? There are so many things still left unsaid between them, so many lingering thoughts and feelings. This one song simply confuses it all, creating a tangled mess of all things Louis never got closure on.
The show had been wonderful. Lovely. Harry is a performer. But his songs. His lyrics. There are things about it that Louis cannot understand, cannot decipher the ulterior meaning behind certain words and themes of the songs. Everything was personal and from experience, some tied to him and their past and some tied to the new life Harry is living. It's all concerning and intriguing, but overall, he's fucking confused about it.
Once Harry finishes, Louis has a heart stopping moment when he realizes they are about to see each other. The band is still closing off with the final cords of the song, and the crowd is cheering loudly. Harry's voice is heard echoing down the hall, his heels clicking and ringing a loud sound into the room Louis is hiding in. His back is currently to the door, and he stops his pacing long enough to catch his breath, staring at a box of rings resting atop the vanity that's at the far end of the room.
What if all the rings he's ever bought for the boy are there? What if ...
The door opening cuts through his thoughts, all concerns about the blue Zircon ring long gone. Instead, Louis stiffens, his nose infiltrated with the strong scent of honeydew and rosewater, Harry's wonderful smell. Looking up, Louis catches his eye in the reflection of the mirror, calculating his moves, watching as he steps through the room towards the vanity in front. He removes his ear piece, setting it in the drawer and withdrawing all the rings he's currently wearing on his fingers. No blue zircon ring seen yet.
"Quite the show," Louis starts with, swallowing, breath hitching when Harry turns around. His lips are tightly pressed together, green eyes unsure as they glance down to the ground, his shoes crossing over one another. Louis can tell that he's nervous, and quite frankly, he feels pretty nervous too. He's not so sure how to go about this, how to get the details about the new song he sung tonight. "You have some solid bops."
Harry's lip twitch, but it's shy of a smile. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear before crossing his arms over his chest. "What'd you think of them?"
"Lyrically?" Louis checks, waiting for Harry's nod. "Well," pursing his lips, Louis strolls around the couches, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's frame. "Where do Broken Hearts Go is a stellar opening song. Lyrics allude to a break up, not sure how to move on from it. Kind of like Happily, always thinking about what the other is doing since the break up, I suppose?"
Harry's nose crinkles.
"History. I liked it. Soft and reminiscent. Kind of made me think about all the trouble the lads and us got in to back in the day." Louis smiles despite all the nerves running through his veins. He's one step closer to Harry, a couch behind his body that he leans against. "Lights Up seems like a story you're trying to tell the world, something about yourself. Kind of like a secret you want to share. Similar to End of The Day, that maybe the narrative surrounding you isn't what it's supposed to be. Seems like you're pretty obvious about that, huh?"
"Maybe," Harry mumbles under his breath. He still hasn't looked up from the ground.
"I thought Stockholm Syndrome was about some new kinky thing you had. I'm still debating it, but I am considering it's more about the restraints you wear with your label and management," Louis continues. Harry hums, a small sign of agreeing. "Sweet Creature is just blatantly about me. Not to sound narcissistic, but it reminded me of when we first got together. Young love, if you will. And Sunflower. I remember how we used to dance in the kitchen together and just feel so carefree with each other. It's nice." Louis steps away from the couch, walking towards the clothes rack and mindlessly sorting through all the shiny outfits that are hung. "All your songs are good, Harry. Everything about it reminds me of something of your past or something you want to tell about the life you have now."
Once he's gone through all the outfits, he steps away, lingering in front of Harry. His green eyes are beginning to shimmer. "I was in here, but I heard Hey Angel. And Kiwi - which, Kiwi is quite the rockstar song. N idea what it means, but it was fun. I bet everyone was having a blast out there."
"What'd you think of Hey Angel?" Harry questions, voice cracking.
Louis blows out a breath of air. He hasn't had much time to think about the lyrics because his mind was still processing to the new song, but he heard enough. A few lyrics stuck out like a sore thumb for him, and it's adding to the list of things that concern him.
"I think ... this world you're now living in is fucked up." Louis blinks, catching Harry's eyes. "And I worry about what's been happening to you all these years for you to write a song about talking to angels. That's quite ... intense."
Harry blinks, and all the tears he's been holding back starts to roll down his cheek. He looks away, chin ducking down to his chest and fingers clenching tightly to the vanity he's leaning against. All these minor things Louis has picked up during the week they spent together, he's becoming highly aware that something is not okay. With this song, and a few others, it's a clear indication that there is a burden weighing on Harry's life. Something bad and terrible, causing him to not eat food, to crawl back into his shy shell and scream for help through his songs.
Louis thought he was over thinking things, but now, he sees everything. Clear as day. Maybe these past three years have not been as good to him as he though.
"Are you okay?" he ends up asking, voice softening. "I mean - these people who work with you - for you - are they harming you?"
"I'm fine."
Louis shakes his head. "You know, I've been watching you all week, and there is no way in bloody hell that you're fine."
"Louis, please." Harry sighs, so tired, slouching. He blinks, eyes now rimmmed red, bottom lip wobbling. Any second the band will come look for him. It's a matter of time before this conversation will get interrupted, but Louis is not ready for that to happen. He wants to finish what has been started. "I'm fine. Okay? Drop it. Who cares?"
"Who cares?" Louis mocks, placing his hands on his hips. "Harry, your songs are anything but okay. You're hurting, broken, trying to find a way out. I can hear it. I can see it. How have these three years treated you so terrible? What are these people doing to you? You're not okay, Harry. You can't hide that from me."
"I'm getting out, okay? What does it matter anymore. They said five years or three albums. I chose three albums, and now I'm done. Contract up. You don't need to worry about me. S' not like anyone else can pick up what these songs are about. S' not fair that you can."
Louis rolls his eyes. "Right. Some of your best hits are about being restrained, drowning in your own pity, thinking about being with the angels. Tell me how anyone is supposed to step away after knowing that? You need help."
"I don't need anything."
"Half your songs are about a relationship that ended three years ago and about how miserable you are."
Harry makes a face. "And your point? I can write whatever I want. You should know, you help write songs. It's whatever comes to my mind."
"Is that your excuse for writing If I Could Fly?"
Harry freezes, eyes widening, breath hitching in his chest.
"Tell me it's not a bit daft to write that song about someone you haven't spoken to over many years? Having all of this on your mind for so long and not moving on is fucked up, Harry. What did you think would happen when you chose to write and perform this song tonight? That it'll end all be all for us?"
"It's just a bloody song, Louis. I got inspired, and I wrote it. I thought I would end my tour with a new one. Not everything has to be about you," Harry snaps, voice cutting in sharp. "I wrote the song because being home, being around you fucking hurts. I had all this emotion that I didn't know what to do with so I started writing. I wrote about my love and heartbreak for you. I didn't write it because I wanted you to pity me or be with me. I wrote it because this is what I do - write songs. Express my feelings. Let people know that there's something more than the rockstar womanizer that everyone thinks I am."
Well. Now Louis feels somewhat guilty and like an asshole. Only slightly. This conversation is just now heating up.
"You didn't want me to, Louis. You pushed me away. You broke up with me," Harry continues. His hands are shaking where they are pressed against the vanity, and his posture is stiffening. The tears in his eyes return, but they are replaced from sadness to anger. "I didn't want this life. I didn't want to go on tour. I didn't want to be famous. I wasn't ready for it. Gosh, Louis. I loved you so much. I wanted to stay here with you and our friends. You broke my heart when you told me to go. I've wanted nothing more than for the past three years to come home, but I couldn't. You didn't want me here, and you made sure no else did too."
Harry hastily wipes his eyes when everything starts pouring out. Louis feels sort of stuck in his place, not entirely sure he's hearing everything right. All these years, he's been the one mad at Harry. Mad at him for leaving. Mad at him for never coming back or calling. But now, he's seeing light on a different side. Seeing all the anger and emotion from Harry that he's never witness before. Had he read everything so wrong? That night had gone terribly wrong when he met Harry in the park. He knew he shouldn't have let it get this way, but somehow, someway, Harry had interrupted it wrong. He interpreted it in a way that made Louis out to be the bad guy.
Is this what these three years had led to?
"Everyone hates me," Harry cries, sniffing, chest heaving. He takes a second to catch his breath, and Louis stares back at him as if he's trying to understand what this is all about. "They all chose your side. They didn't care or bother to check in on me. I was all alone. I am alone. Gosh, Louis. You didn't want me? You've made it pretty damn clear - all week you have. And because of that, I have nobody. This week has been the hardest for me. Being around everyone who hates me."
Louis lets out a deep breath through his nose. "What did you expect Harry? You left everyone. Without so much of a goodbye or text. Not even when you were gone did you call. Nobody even knew you left until I went to your house that morning. Your fucking sister told me about it. How the hell did you think that made me feel?"
"You broke up with me," Harry near screams.
"I never broke up with you, twit. Not once did I suggest it."
Harry chokes on his breath, like this sentence had hit him right in the chest, knocking him of air. "You ..." he begins, shaking his head, mind running at a mile a minute. His brows furrow together, nose scrunching as he tries to understand, tries to recall a memory once placed in the back of his mind. "You pushed me away. You chose to be with Luke over me."
"I didn't. You came up with that one on your own."
Harry puffs out a pitiful sob.
Louis sighs, running his fingers through his fringe. "You didn't even give me the chance to speak that night. You took over everything. Assumed whatever you wanted to assume. You were being stubborn and not listening at all."
"Well, what were you bloody trying to say then?" Harry tosses his arms up, desperate and annoyed.
"I was trying to tell you to take the offer because I thought it would be a good idea for your dream. I had been nervous about it all week. Feeling selfish because I wanted you to stay. I didn't want to hold you back so I was also going to tell you that if you went, I would still be there by your side. I even wrote a fucking letter because I didn't know how to say what I wanted to say without sounding like a right tit. Yes, I wanted you to go, but I wanted you to know that I would've still be there with you."
The seconds those words settle with Harry feel like an eternity. It's a slow realization, all the gears in his mind grinding. He stumbles back on his feet, colliding with the vanity. Sinking atop it, he lets out an unsteady breath, blinking, glaring down at the ground and standing there completely still. So frozen in space. It's silent, a long drag of all the words they never got to say to one another. Louis feels quite frozen himself, staring at Harry carefully, waiting for the next move. He cant tell if he's about to burst in anger or burst into tears.
"You weren't breaking up with me?" Harry asks so quietly, so softly, voice wavering.
Blinking, his green eyes look up, catching sight of Louis'.
"No."
Harry laughs, all bitter and humorless. "I thought - I thought you didn't want me."
"I wanted you more than anything, Harry. But I also wanted you to achieve your dreams."
Harry covers his face with his hands, burrowing in deep and just sobbing, letting it all out. Louis feels choked up himself, all the pent up emotions coming to surface. The clarity he had been searching for all this time is here, plated right there in front of him. Two sides of a story that was never told. Two sides that are clearly so different in its own way, resulting in bouts of conflicting emotions and thoughts. Louis cannot believe the biggest thing they had been lacking all this time was communication, even from the start, when they were in love and together.
Two sides of a story, and two tragic endings.
"That night, I came by to tell you that you shouldn't worry about us because we would be okay. No matter how big and famous you would get, I was going to be there with you," Louis continues, heart now racing in his chest. "I wanted to tell all of that to you, but it went to shit. After you ran off that night, I went round your house the next morning. Was ready to apologize and explain myself better. Even had flowers. But you weren't there. You had already left."
Harry lifts his head from his hands, face flushed and eyes teary. "I left because I was broken. I thought you didn't want me. You had been pushing me away for months at that point, and then Luke. You were with him that whole week after the competition ended. How else was I supposed to feel? I felt so stupid after that night."
"Harry, Luke was never anything in comparison to you. He was just a friend. Whatever he felt meant nothing to me. Why can't you understand that?"
"Hard to think that after knowing you two had a fling."
Louis rolls his eyes. That's a stubborn comment. "For the record, that week I was around him, we were talking about you and us. I asked for advice on what I should do about this tour offer you had."
"And?"
"And he told me to fight for you - for us."
"That is not - " Harry sucks in a sharp breath, near trembling. "That is not what I thought was happening." He laughs again, all airy and wet. "The way I felt after that night, I never want to feel again. I felt so utterly broken. Unwanted and unlovable. You made me feel that way because youcouldn't get your words right."
Louis looks down at his shoes, shaking his head. All of this, the anger and sadness and heartbreak, all because they couldn't talk to each other appropriately. Louis had been a coward, and Harry had been scared and naive. They were so young when all this happened. Just Eighteen and Twenty. Still a whole world of life for them to explore only for them to waste three years of it living in this anguish. Where they could have just been happy and together, not living apart in these separate worlds.
Why was it so hard for Louis to speak that night? When he thinks about it, the moment in the park with Harry, he feels like he lost his voice. His tongue thick and unable to formulate words. Everything he wanted to say was right there on his mind and heart, but that's where it stayed, right there. Never uttered out loud for Harry to hear, and the aftermath that followed has left this terrible devastation of two exes rekindling all week through painful memories.
They were so young and in love. They still are young. Harry is still young, having the weight of the world on his shoulders at just twenty one. Most people his age are still in Uni, still trying to figure out what to do with their lives when he's already explored the entire world and faced things people his age don't ever get to. Louis is hit with the harsh reminder of that in this moment.
"We could still be together," Harry whispers after a moment, eyes slipping shut.
Fuck. Harry's right. They could be. These three years of living in this constant heart break could have been prevented. Their break up, if it was even that, more like a misunderstanding. It wasn't that they were no longer in love or wanted different things. It was that they were young and stupid, lacking the voice to say the right words at the right time. It was being on two separate pages and being too stubborn to fix it right away. Harry wasn't listening, and Louis wasn't talking.
It was all a shit show to begin with, and it continues to be one. Two exes who were once in love and broke up for no reason other than lack of information. Possibly, the love never went away, and they were just two people who never got back together.
"I did write that song about you. My new one," Harry says once the silence passes, filling the void of their heavy breathing with his voice. Louis looks up, wiping away the tears he feels corning in his eyes. "But I didn't mean anything by it. Being around you all week sparked up these feelings I have tried to keep hidden. All my love for you. The heartbreak, the loneliness. The want I had for you to just be there for me. It all came back to me the instant I saw you in my home. So I wrote it into my song." Sighing breathily, Harry steps away from the vanity, twinging his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry I left, Louis. Without a word. I just, I thought you were done with me. I felt so heartbroken and sad. Seeing you this week has made me feel that heartbreak all over again. I hate knowing that you don't feel the same way I did."
Louis cocks his head. "How do you know what I feel?"
"I've seen it. I've heard it," Harry mutters under his breath. There's chatter going on outside, and Louis' heart quickens in his chest at the fear of someone walking in. "I heard about you and Luke. And you keep saying he meant nothing to you when we were together, but it fucking hurts knowing that you've been with him. It's like my worst fear had come to truth, and when I heard it - I just kept thinking back to when we were together. To when you would spend time with him. How can I not think anything else?"
"Our hookup had nothing to do with my feelings towards him. I don't have any," Louis explains, a bit more desperate than he wants. "It was an accident, and I was sad. It was our anniversary. I had just seen the news about you and some model, and I was upset. He was there with me. We had been drinking. It didn't go anywhere past what you think. Trust me I tried."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I've tried to move on from you. Everyone, all our friends, kept pressuring me to put you in the past, and I wanted it. I wanted to forget about you, but I couldn't." Louis is back to pacing now, back and forth in front of Harry, shoes about ready to burn a hole in the carpet of the room. He does this for a few seconds and then stops in front of Harry, directly in his space. "I can't, Harry. It's so bloody hard to find someone new when I've had you. Nobody can even compare to you, and it fucking sucks. You are the love of my fucking life, and it's cursed me to never move on. Fuck. You say you were broken, but I was fucking miserable when you left."
Harry's eyes suddenly widen, and he steps closer to Louis, merely touching him. "What'd you just say?" he questions quietly, blinking owlishly. "I'mthe love of your life?"
The amount of hope etched in Harry's features fills Louis' heart. It's like those are the words he's been dying to hear this entire conversation. And truthfully, it felt so good for him to admit it for a change. All these years, he's kept the truth of it all buried deep, pushed to the back of his mind and heart. But now, he feels so free, standing here with Harry, talking out all the things they never got to say. Their friends and his family are probably seconds away from finding where they are. There's probably a whole celebration they intend to throw after the concert, but none of that seems to matter when there's a certain kind of gleam in Harry's eyes, staring back at Louis like he's his whole world.
Gosh. Louis missed that look. It's why he can no longer deny his feelings.
"You are, Harry. Still are."
Harry blows out a big breath. "I would've given it all up." It's a mere whisper under his breath, but Louis is close enough to catch it. Instinctively, he reaches up, gently cupping the side of Harry's face. His green eyes blink towards him. "If you would've asked me to. One text or call. I thought it was me waiting for you to do something this whole time. I had been so scared to say anything and - "
Louis silences him with a kiss. Inevitable. Slotting their lips together and resting it there, so soft and sweet. Taste like honey on the tip of his tongue. Harry's breath hitches when he presses in deeper for the kiss, angling Harry's head back so he can lick his way inside his mouth. Their tongues clash , teeth clinking. Louis' free hand comes to rest around the dip of Harry's waist and he pulls him in close, savoring every way they easily fit together. Harry's fingers reach behind Louis' head and curl into his fringe, digging in deep, dragging his body in closer and closer. Never enough.
There's a desperate whimper that's high and whiny coming from Harry when Louis' twist their lips. It's been three years too long since he last got to do this. If he remembers correctly, the last time they kissed was the night Harry won. They celebrated together. Kissed all night. Made love, and then after, it all went to shit. Reality of the situation had settled, and that was the last time they ever got to do this. Just touch and be in each other's presence. Louis missed it. He knows Harry missed it given by his whines and his moans, the way he's clawing the back of Louis' head to be impossibly closer to him.
The heat between them builds up, and their labored breaths are intermingled with the slick sounds of their mouths. Louis tightened his hold around Harry and lifts him up on the vanity, walking in between his legs and placing palms flat on his thighs. He squeezes tight when Harry nibbles on his lip, drawing out a moan. Louis' hands tickle up to Harry's waist and toy with the button on his pants, ready to undo them just as Harry is lifting his shirt over his head.
Alas, in that moment, the height of the strong buzz, the door is pushed open. The abrupt sound of it slamming back against the wall jerks the two of them away, both their heads turning towards the door with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and wet mouths.
It's Niall, looking ever the most frazzled and traumatized. His eyes divert down and closes the door a little to block what's going on inside the room.
"Sorry, I just - " he coughs, angling out the door. "We have been looking for you two."
Louis has the decency to move from in between Harry's legs, instead standing next to him. He keeps a hand around his hip, enjoying the feel of his body underneath his palm. It's warm and soft. It's home. It's their love.
"What do you want?"
"Thought we were celebrating at the club after the show? The lads and I have been trying to entertain everyone else while you two - " he waves his hand around for emphasis.
Louis snorts, and Harry flushes pink.
"Right," Harry clears his throat, slowly scooting off the vanity. He straightens out his clothes once he's standing, smiling weakly. "Go on ahead. We'll meet you there."
Niall nods his head, backing out the door and shutting it behind him. Once he's gone, Harry turns to Louis, giggling, stepping towards him and falling against his chest. Louis' hands easily find their way to his hips.
"Do you want to go to the club?" Harry asks, lifting his brows, fingers dancing across Louis' sternum. "Or do you want to go back to my hotel and finish what we started?"
There's a smirk on his face, and Louis tsk's, hands now sliding low on his ass. "Let's finish what we started, love. It's been long overdue."
Giggling in to each other's neck, Harry grabs Louis' hand and leads the way out, sneaking past all the guards and stealing one of his assigned drivers to take them back to the hotel. Club be damned.
Soooo, who understands the break up now?
Miscommunication. Badly.
MEMBER LITTLE ONES, COMMUNICATION IS KEY IN A RELATIONSHIP.
Thank you. You're welcome. Enjoy my advice lol.